


Cupcakes...? Donuts...? ...What?

by AkemiMiyano23



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Daddy Arsene, Gen, Let's shower Ren with some love..., Loving and caring personas, Protag goes by Ren, Ren is an imp, attempted humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 09:30:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19391311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkemiMiyano23/pseuds/AkemiMiyano23
Summary: Amamiya Ren sighed. Some times he really didn’t understand how women work. No, stoplaughing, ARSENEPLEASE.It's not so funny anymore when Takamaki Ann asked the million yen question: “Which do you like more—cupcakes or donuts?” There was a mental chorus of “oh shit.” And Amamiya Ren's brain short-circuited. Brilliant. Someone snap him out of it, please? Thank you.Yes, please answer, Ren dearie, which do you like more.*Wiggles eyebrows*





	Cupcakes...? Donuts...? ...What?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Xero/Rey](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Xero%2FRey).



> For XERO or REY (depending who you ask).  
> Prompt story: "thesis on cupcakes vs donuts, 2k words."  
> Well... Let's have Ren answer this.  
>  _*Flees*_
> 
> _*insert Standard disclaimer here.*_

> **Ann:** Hey, Ren, you free? Let’s hang out some time!
> 
> **Ren:** I’m free for the day.
> 
> **Ann:** Really? Awesome! Meet you at this address.
> 
> **Ann:** _[location attachment]_
> 
> **Ren:** See you there.

* * *

“Ann.”

“Mhmmm?”

“When you say ‘hang out’…”

“…hm?”

“…no, never mind.” _‘I really didn’t expect this.’_

Takamaki Ann hummed thoughtfully, her mouth savoring the sweet taste of the treat. Her pale eyebrow raised in a disbelieving “ **suuuuure** ” manner. Amamiya Ren didn’t have death wish however, and just smiled in reply. She looked at his own plate of dessert and flicked her blue eyes up to meet his own grey ones. Repeatedly.

At times like this, Ren wished he had a compendium of “woman expression and body language”. But he didn’t have it nor such a thing existed (to his limited knowledge). _‘Here goes nothing.’_

He pushed the plate of desert slightly toward her.

An eyebrow was raised in answer.

_‘Well. Shit. I’m sorry, Mona. Your food in hidden under the desk. Please find it before you piss of Sojiro-san.’_

Ann popped her mouth open, resting her chin on a hand, the other hand stabbing the fork on her slice of cake. If she noticed Ren’s wince, she didn’t show it. The part-time model pouted. “Geez, Ren. I thought for sure you’d enjoy sweets too.”

The boy felt the rush of blood to his cheeks. “Oh.” He gingerly pulled the plate back in his direction.

“But if you don’t want it…” She looked up at him, the dainty fork tapping her lips.

Amamiya Ren sighed. Some times he really didn’t understand how women work. No, stop _laughing, ARSENE **PLEASE**._

Ann hummed in delight when the plate was pushed hurriedly in her direction. If only she looked up to enjoy the rare sight of the leader’s flushing face.

 _‘Arsene, please please please PLEASE. **STOP. LAUGHING.** Why are you laughing **harder**?_… _Wh—? Why are you guys joining him too? Is this a **betrayal**?’_

* * *

“…”

“There there…” There was a warm feeling blooming in his heart, and a ghostly feeling of something patting his poof of hair.

“…you laughed.” The pout was palpable.

Gentle chimes of laugh. “Oh, sweetie, we’re not making fun of you.”

“Your situation is just too adorable.”

“I feel inspiration coming just from feeling your affection toward her.”

“…We’re just friends though.”

Another chime. Some giggling. Ren felt his face glowing red from the sheer volume of blood.

“They’re right, though, _ma moitié_ [1]. Pixie and High Pixie could have put it better—“ there were a chorus of chiming protests “—but know what we mean no offense. It was endearing to see—and feel—your love for your friends.” Ren opened his mouth in protest. “Yes, _mon cher **[2]**, _we know it’s platonic.” His mouth shut with a click.

“It’s sweet,” his persona agreed. Her voice soft and slightly more focused than usual. “It makes me feel elated. I am glad to have joined you.”

“Sidhe is too flowery with words some times,” Pixie teased.

“Oh hush, Pixie. We have a precious moment here,” Leanan Sidhe chided.

“But we all agreed,” High Pixie continued. “In our very honest opinion, Trickster, we think it’s better if you allow yourself to express yourself more.”

Ren snuggled closer to his pillow, silent.

A phantom brush of feathers, and gentle hands. Warmth. The young Trickster sighed contently. “It pains me to see the scars of your past, _mon chaton_ [3]. No more would you be alone.” The phantom feathers hugged him closer.

“…Thanks.”

“…”

A mental prod. “…Sooo… When are you gonna hang out with her again?” There was definitely some unseen wiggling of eyebrows here.

Another rush of blood.

“…Pixie.”

“What?” she asked innocently.

Arsene and Ren sighed exasperatedly in unison.

* * *

The next time he saw Ann texting him, his entire arsenal of personas mentally nudged him _so **hard**_ he stumbled in the real world. Arsene chided them, much to his relief. Then Arsene prodded him to go and hang out with her, much to his chagrin. Without even trying to, he could tell his entire arsenal were grinning as best as they could.

Some…weren’t subtle at all.

“Do remember to fetch Sidhe and Pixie,” one reminded him. “I’m willing to go dormant if you go get them and do _the thing._ ”

Ren facepalmed.

_‘As I said, we’re platonic! Geez, guys, I swear you never listen to me outside of combat.’_

“But of course! You’re hopeless in social situations. I don’t know how you talked me into joining you. Bear with me, boy.”

“Are you not going to answer the lady, _mon cher_?”

_‘Soon, Arsene… I just need time…’_

“Ah yes, of course. Do remember to prepare yourself to answer the questions the good lady may ask.”

The teen paused in his step. Morgana meowing in confusion from the confines of his school bag. But it didn’t register in his ears. His mind was a resounding _‘Wait. **What**.’_

Ren could have sworn he felt muffled giggles in his mind. Arsene—the _lil shit_ —had the gall to twitch a flaming smirk. The teen hurriedly pulled out his phone from his pocket (again) and unlocked it. His eyes darted across the screen, speed-reading the message.

His personas muffled their hearing one way or another that afternoon.

Arsene was the only one laughing, _the_ _little shit_.

* * *

This time, Amamiya Ren nibbled on the pastry served in a plate before him. He eyed Ann from the corner of his vision; the blonde was gleefully devouring while savoring a strawberry cupcake. How she did both, he’d never know. The boy eyed his one sugary donut. Compared to the bright pink of Ann’s cupcake, his brown-y donut looked plain.

Just like what he was feeling right now, really.

He felt a gentle nudge of chastisement from the corners of his mind. The first sign of his personas running interference since he arrived at the little pastry shop.

 _‘What did I do this time?’_ he sighed wearily.

“Hey, Ren.”

Whoops.

“Yes, Ann?” Thank gods he didn’t stutter. Shut up, peanut gallery in the corners of his mind.

“Which do you like more—cupcakes or donuts?”

There was a mental chorus of “ ** _oh shit_**.”

“Tread carefully, _mon_ _chéri_ [4] .”

 _‘You don’t have to tell me twice, Arsene.’_ He felt a collective bead of cold sweat flowing down his neck.

Her blue eyes were glinting with _that glint_. Her slim, model-worthy fingers _somehow_ twirled the metal fork without stumbling on themselves. For a split second, he saw the pink-red cat mask and the towering _femme fatale_ of a persona. He could have sworn he heard the telltale _agi_ spells and sounds of whip.

Both Trickster and persona gulped.

“…Can we take a raincheck?” Ren blurted.

He felt more than heard some of his personas singing requiem in unison.

* * *

_‘…Are we not being too hard on him, Carmen?’_

“Why, no. Did you not notice how he’s been carrying the burden on himself? For all the gentleman he is, he’s dumb at times.” 

_‘…’_

“Why don’t we teach the boy a lesson, dear?”

* * *

“Thank Philemon she let off the hook easy that one time, _ma moitié_.” The boy shuddered. “I don’t think we’re getting off so easy next time.” There was a mental shudder and the ghostly sensation of feathers ruffling and puffing.

_‘I can tell that, thank you very much, Arsene.’_

“There there, _mon chaton_ , you have much to learn—“

“—and **_we_** have much to teach you,” chimed in Pixie.

_‘Ho boy, here we go.’_

“Oh hush, you,” chorused back at him.

* * *

“Lesson number one: read her cues,” Pixie advised.

 _‘So why are we here again?’_ Ren mentally asked, seated in a pastry shop. A plate of donut on his right, and another plate of cupcake to his left.

He heard the tutting and the finger chastising him. “Are you not paying attention?” All of a sudden, he felt like he was facing his mom again, and his back went ramrod straight in wordless answer. “Good.” An eyeroll. “I _guess_ you were too busy to pay attention to her.”

_‘!!! I’M SORRY, MA’AM!’_

“…Hmph. At least you got some manners.” The ghostly fingers of pixie flashed in his vision, pointing at the plate. “Now taste test these things.” Ren eyed the thick frosting and sugar warily. “OH COME ON!” He felt the incessant prod in his mind, slowly growing into a headache.

The bespectacled boy gingerly pulled the plates closer to him. He carefully sliced a piece of the sugary donuts with a fork, and then the cupcake. The amount of frosting and sugar… High Pixie and Pixie prodded him jointly. He grimaced.

He bit into the pastries tentatively. He vaguely heard Arsene shooing the other personas deeper into his mind, his fiery grin burning bright behind the obsidian mask.

Then _that taste_ hit him. All at once.

High Pixie and Pixie almost went deaf after that.

* * *

“It’s okay, _mon_ _moitié_. They’re fine. They’re sulking and rubbing their ears, but they’re fine.” Ren hesitated. Surely there was something else he could do. There were brushes of reassurances blooming in his chest. “They just need time, _mon cher_ , and you still have another lesson to learn. Sidhe, if you would, my lady…”

“Why, thank you, Arsene. What a gentleman you are.”

“Why, thank you. It was an honor, my lady.” Ren eyerolled when Arsene dramatically bowed a showman’s bow in his mind, wings acting as capes.

“You did well in the taste test, Ren.” 

His tongue would beg to differ, thanks.

“Now, a lady needs…the right touch, or shall we say— _words_. If you listened to what Pixie told you, you would have noticed that she wanted an answer from you.” The young man nodded affirmatively, ignoring the weird looks the shop’s patrons were shooting him.

_‘I’ll be in your care, Sidhe.’_

“Such a good boy. I should give you some inspiration…”

“…Good luck, _mon chaton_.”

_‘ARSENE, YOU—!‘_

* * *

Two days after, Ann messaged Ren. Her heart pounded with anticipation. She felt the soothing warmth from Carmen, reassuring her that she was with her, every step of the way. She nodded to both Carmen and herself resolutely. Yes, this is indeed for the good of Ren himself and the team. Carmen nodded in approval.

> **Ren:** See you there, Ann.

Takamaki Ann locked her phone’s screen. The time has come. She stepped into the pastry shop from last week, not once noticing the weird looks shot in her direction. She sat in the two-seat table, and waved a waiter.

The poor waiter was stunned when she ordered without even opening the menu. Her face was saying “WHY ME” as she walked off.

And she waited. Patiently. Like a cat of prey. On a mission.

Why did that sound so wrong?

Thankfully, she didn’t have to wait for long. The mop of fluffy dark hair appeared at the door, and a grin threatened to split her face. She waved eagerly at him. The boy waved timidly back, and slowly skittered toward her, slipping into the seat across from her.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said breathlessly. A twinge of worry wormed its way into her face. “I’m fine,” he raised his hands. “Just a customer in a part-time job. Then I rushed here when I saw the time.”

Ann nodded. “It’s fine, I just arrived too.”

A pause.

“So.” Ren looked up. Blinking tiredness out of his eyes. The waiter served the dishes of pastry. Just in time. Bless your soul, dear waiter. “I hope you’re up for some sweets time~”

He smiled fondly at her. “Of course, Ann.”

Ann grinned. “Let’s eat~!” She reached and pulled a plate of cupcakes and a plate of donuts in her direction. Using her peripheral vision as she cleaned her fork with a napkin out of habit, she watched Ren did the same. The model inhaled. Ah yes, the smell. The wonderful, mouth-watering smell of pastries. The glittering of reflected light from fine sugar, the glisten of frostings…

Yum.

The blonde sighed dreamily. Her fork came down on the poor, fluffy cupcake first.

“Hoo… It looks like the boy came prepared this time.”

Ann raised an eyebrow. She felt the nudge from Carmen to look up. And look up she did.

Ren had _somehow_ relocated his cupcake to the donuts plate. He carefully scooped up the thick frosting from the top of the cupcake, and deposited it on the once-emptied plate. The pastry shop’s din went a lot more silent than it was two minutes ago.

The young lad was undeterred. He carefully moved his donuts and dusted off most of the thick sugar coating into the same plate.

The pastry shop, including Ann, collectively blinked.

Oblivious, Ren carefully cut a piece of the cupcake, popped the piece into his mouth and chewed. He hummed thoughtfully. Then he proceeded to do the same to the donuts. Yet again, he hummed.

Ann’s toes curled in anticipation.

“As I thought, I like this,” he mused, voice just loud enough for her to hear, but not enough to be overheard. “It’s better than I thought.”

Ann blinked. “Oh, so you like donuts more?” She didn’t know what to say, frankly.

It was Ren’s turn to blink. But wouldn’t be Phantom Thief if she missed that glint in his eyes. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. His lips twitched. “Oh? Oooh… Ann, I was talking about the frosting and sugar.”

…

_No, Arsene, for gods’s sake, stop laughing._

Ann and Carmen mentally facepalmed in unison.

* * *

“I had a great time. Thanks, Ann.”

“…Ren.”

“Hmm?”

“You still haven’t told me which one you like better.”

“Oh. Oh yeah. I forgot about that.”

“So?”

“I like the donuts…as much as I like the cupcakes…when I can set aside some of the sugar.” Ann didn’t even get the chance to process his response before the **_lil imp_** boarded his train with a grin. “See you later, Ann!”

“REN, YOU **IDIOT**! **_GEEZ_**!”

* * *

Translation Notes:

[1] Ma moitié= my (other) half.

[2] Mon cher = my darling.

[3] Mon chaton = my kitten.

[4] Mon chéri = my good man(?); my dear.

**Author's Note:**

> I...had unleashed the Impish Ren. And the Troll-but-Daddy Arsene.  
> What have I done?
> 
> I frankly didn't think it was gonna turn out like this. A debate over favorite food... *shudder* It's a matter of life and death. And Ren, the lil imp, knows that. What is best than teasing the shit out of Ann, and then claim he likes them both the same?  
> ...That's totally me, by the way.  
>  _*Runs*_
> 
> I had to consult google and other sites to find out what could possibly Arsene call Ren with.  
> I'd like to think personas can talk, but they just choose the telepathic bond with their user. With their own personality, a facet of their user's. So. Here they are. I haven't actually played P5, so my research of persona personality (no pun intended) was very difficult. I went with PQ2's description-background, and just...rolled with it.  
> Then, _somehow_ , they gained a life of their own.  
> Yay...?
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed this~


End file.
